


Chekhov’s Gun

by Jonana



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, and some humor, apocalypse AU??, i made this a month ago ok, or canon divergent after The Festival, permadeath..., surrounds old tropes from before and around that time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonana/pseuds/Jonana
Summary: Tubbo wishes he could see L’Manberg as it once was— a beautiful nation with grand, blackstone walls and a family knit tighter than any he’d had before the Dream SMP. However. He knows all he’ll find is a city of ash and smoke.Or, Wilbur doesn’t lose the detonator at the Festival. And he takes his shot.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, I came up with this idea around two months ago, and it’s all about the events and drama at that time (which is a tad old, but still), so don’t expect anything from the new streams. I’ll take a little inspiration from them, and that’s it, cause I have the plot outline all done and dusted at this point. 
> 
> Basically, the server goes downhill after The Festival.
> 
> Also! The “Major Character Death” warning is for stuff that happened before the actual events of this story (there will be flashbacks to it though...), so you won’t see Tommy dying out of nowhere or anything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What if all the stars came crashing to the ground?  
>  And explosions and fire started happening all around  
> Would you believe me and come home and sit back, let it be  
> I can’t do this by myself (ok, alright!)  
> What if I told you the world was gonna end?  
> And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends  
> I guess we don’t even need to use the phone  
> I don’t need your answer, I’ll be spending it alone_  
> ~ _Fifteen Minutes_ , Mike Krol

The Dream SMP was in ruin.

The little server from a while ago, with members like GeorgeNotFound and Dream building that brick house over the lake? The server that quickly grew from a measly population of two, to over twenty-four? The one that ended with drama, war, and revolution?

That one, yeah.

It was no joke that things went downhill quickly after members WilburSoot and TommyInnit revolted against the Dream SMP’s so-called “tyranny” and built a land on revolution, for independence, to separate from Dream’s seemingly omnipotent rule. They inspired so many people, motivated their friends to fight, to resist their own admin. That time felt like ages ago, and for them the outcome felt like a good ending… but it happened to be the first mark of _complete_ and utter downfall for the whole server.

Events afterwards— ranging from wars to elections— made everything so, so much worse.

Nothing that could be told in one sitting, of course.

The entire central part of the server rocked on the day of the tragedy. Someone had snapped, decided the earth had to end, and with the help of powerful hands was able to make his wishes reality. The ground rumbled and groaned and shook under every citizen’s feet. Buildings collapsed, the earth burned. Homes were replaced with a crater.

All from one brisk, reckless action.

Initially, only the small, once rapidly growing nation of Manberg— a warped, new version of Wilbur’s original revolution— was left injured. Less than a week later the entire area reeked of smoke and destruction. But not caused by the same hands.

The culprit for the destruction of Manberg, as well as Church Prime, WilburSoot himself, fled from the area many, many days before any of that. Or just died, no one had a clue.

Fortunately, a bit less than a month later, the smoke had officially finished billowing from the tops of every building in the central server, but the sky’s perpetual gray color had not cleared, and neither had the rubble. Some citizens helped clean up from time to time, but the work was slow and hardly any progress was made. No one was blamed for it. People’s homes were destroyed, their belongings along with it. People disappeared.

One example: Dream, but that comes later.

The Community House, the little house on the lake mentioned earlier, was one of the most memorable and important buildings on the SMP. It was the very first build, the first _home_ , it was close to spawn, was nestled in the center of the Dream Faction, and once provided shelter and supplies for anyone who happened to need it. Now it lay at the bottom of its gorgeous lake, brick and stone walls caved in and deteriorating under the water. 

Across from the lake sat a monumental ruined castle, cracked andesite walls and towers fallen over and crumbling, a ceiling crashed in, half-burnt flags with snapped staffs on the ground, heavy wooden beams still cracking and groaning deep within the center of the build. It was a beautiful site, an impenetrable wreck. No one could get inside.

Quite a few miles away, opposite the castle and the lake, a spaceship lay smashed to pieces after a vicious meeting with the ground. One half was sticking out into the air, while the other was buried under debris.

Only a single house in the area stayed untouched through the chaos, the one belonging to a man called Punz. It was a fairly large house, as tall as it was wide and built from stone and dark oak. The walls surrounding it were gone, as if whoever had taken them down stopped the project and turned somewhere else.

In a completely new faction, a nation next door to the Dream Faction, Manberg had become a crater. Where there used to be homes and a path and a podium, the land was completely carved out. Skinny streams of dirtied water rushed to the very bottom from the many lakes and streams touching the edges. Dust and rubble and distorted shapes that _looked_ like architecture layered the base and sides of the crater.

Between these two mentioned factions was a strip of neutral land. At least, neutral before the apocalypse. In it sat the ruins of a tall, glass and concrete tower that had tumbled to the ground, and a piece of rubble that used to be known as the church. This area was once widely considered as a holy land, a place where any weapons or violence were banned. 

Those laws were quickly negated.

To summarize the entire server, nearly every single building was now a pile of cobblestone and buried in a layer of ash and debris. Soot and smoke stained the skies. Outside the server’s gray and black ring of ash, however, was a ring of tall spruce and oak trees... that thickened into a flush, living forest. 

Though it might be wise, no one left the central server, if only for resources at the very most. Mainly because the area was their home, their spawn.

...likewise, the woods harbored fugitives and traitors.

So, there was life. Citizens still dotted the towns, recovering what they could from the ruin before heading back to their temporary bases. Two men walked along a road once called the Path of Prime, a blond in purple stooping to help his friend, a dark-skinned guy dressed in black and orange and shielded with a cloth mask, over a particularly rough patch in the road.

Though it was tiny and weak and very, very far away there was a bit of hope, buried in the hearts of some rose-colored members, as well as in the ones that tended to stay quiet in the back. Maybe, they thought, things could return to what they used to be, perhaps even better.

. . .

Niki had no idea why she was here. 

The place was a wreck— it could hardly be considered a building anymore. The walls of Church Prime were completely gone, the roof was crumbled to the ground and she was tripping over chunks of it. What sunlight there was was completely free to roam over the entirety of the church, outside and in, where it used to shine through the stained glass windows and fall on the floor, decorating the quartz tiles in a rainbow of colors. She missed it.

She had never been a regular worshipper, nor one as zealous as Tommy or Ponk. But Church Prime had always held a special place in Niki’s heart, as it did everyone else. 

It hurt to see the place like this, especially now, knowing what Wil had done to it. His reasoning.

Niki fell to her knees when she reached the pulpit, picking dust and bits of rock from her sweater before looking up at the open sky. The clouds, once sparse and fluffy and white, hung over her head like heavy gray carpets.

She closed her eyes and sighed. 

Church Prime hadn’t burned the same as every other building. It was blown sky-high, like Manberg. 

She pinched her eyelids tighter. She tried not to think about that. 

Niki’s eyes opened and fell on the broken pulpit in front of her. The little bell worshippers used to ring liberally had cracked, one smaller golden piece a few feet away from the other. 

Her thoughts turned a different direction, back to Wil. He had done this, that was obvious. _Everyone_ knew. But what could they do about it? He was long gone, and nobody would ever find him. An unwanted tear slid down her cheek, and Niki wiped it away in frustration.

Besides. Server citizens had other issues to worry about.

. . .

“This is boring, Eret.”

“You want to stop? I can keep going if you really want.”

“No, no no no… I can’t.” A chuckle. “I can’t do that.” 

It could have been a beautiful evening. It was one of the nicest the server'd had in awhile, at the very least. The sun was low, and peeked through openings in the dark clouds from time to time, briefly flooding the nation of Manberg in sudden, white and yellow light. It was more than welcome, of course. The weather and temperature was decent and moderate, as well.

Quackity dug his spade into the gravel beneath him, unearthing nothing more than cobble and ash. Finding no extra room in his inventory to store it, he stopped his work and turned to a pile of chests up the hill behind the two citizens, in order to dispose of his trash-filled hoard.

As he climbed the hill— which was actually the steep wall of a large crater, a thin, but considerate spruce staircase aped up the rocky side— Eret followed closely behind him with his own overflowing inventory.

The chests were nearly full, Quackity realized with a sense of relief. That meant they didn’t have to clean up for much longer. 

Eret had been the one to convince him to do this in the first place, they were the only two slaving away today— but this was _his_ Manberg, after all. Quackity had a responsibility, even if his country wasn’t much of a country anymore. He’d do anything for Manberg, even if it was repetitive and monotonous and made his back sore.

Quackity turned back around to the giant hole that claimed its space, and quickly grimaced.

The crater and the area around it had changed color to a fossil gray, from both the exposed stone, and the many layers of ash and dust from the burned and detonated buildings. Quite literally _every_ standing building that was in range of the explosion was obliterated. Any evidence of architecture was either buried very deep or reduced to infinitesimal particles. 

The few remaining— and surviving— Manbergians lived in tents surrounding the massive hole, welcome little splotches of color in the mono landscape. Niki’s tent was characteristically pink, for example, and Fundy’s was orange. A few citizens had even moved in to join them, whether from choice or not. This lot included Eret.

That basically concluded the entirety of the Manberg population. Except for Purpled, a neutral, who had moved in next to Quackity’s tent after his spaceship was griefed. 

Every other citizen had disappeared, or otherwise.

Quackity swallowed, choking down month-old memories from that day of tragedy. He recalled his time before Manberg, before… Schlatt. He liked to think his nation got off easy. 

For a moment, he thought he saw Eret smile softly, the former king’s eyes hidden behind thick black shades, before the Brit clapped a hand on the shoulder of his Mexican friend and pointed to the southern end of Manberg. “I think we should poke around over there before we finish, Mr. President. Doesn’t that look like one of the support beams from the podium?”

Quackity squinted, and though he didn’t see what Eret saw, he grinned shortly.

“Sure, yeah… anything to get this over with.”

. . .

Gathered in the lounge of a dark oak house that desperately called for renovation, a chatty group of five men sat on boxes or leaned against walls, successfully ignoring the outside’s gray color. All wore armor to some extent, whether it be a fully-fledged set of netherite or just a pair of boots. Weapons weren’t drawn, but they were visible— swords, axes, bows or crossbows laid on the floor, inches from the hands of the user, or strapped to the user’s back. Ironically, conversation was not at all as agitated as it striked.

A boy with bright blue, animated eyes currently led the colloquy. He wore the least amount of armor and bore no weapon. His brown hair was thick and wavy and he donned a mostly violet hoodie with mismatched-colored sleeves in pink and lime, the initials _KJ_ written in bold on the back, a piece of clothing unique and signature to him. Karl talked loudly and waved his hands sprightly as he joked.

The rest of his audience wasn’t as spirited as him, but occasionally the entire room roared with laughter at a remark or some stupid event. For the most part, it looked and felt like a chill group of friends enjoying a normal, casual evening. 

Which could be refreshing, but deceiving compared to the state of the world outdoors.

His buddies were all diverse in looks and behavior. One of the most eye-catching was a quiet guy called Antfrost, a human-Siamese cat hybrid with dark ears, cream-colored fur, a baby blue windbreaker, heavy netherite chestplate, and yes— a tail. Sapnap, who was almost as loud as Karl, wore a white headband over his dark locks, a white tee with a flame decal overtop a black turtleneck, and black, white-striped sweatpants. Punz, the owner of the dark oak house, had pale blonde hair and placid blue eyes, a pure white hoodie and a little gold chain around his neck. He wore the most armor, and his crossbow was set just within his easy reach.

George himself rivaled Punz’s security. At the least, his weapon was not drawn and he tried his best to be active in the conversation, but he was the farthest from the group, the most reserved— leaning all of his weight on the back of the far wall. His eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses of his glasses, his chest and shoulders protected by dark slabs of netherite. 

Still, Karl rambled on. He and the gang were a spark of normalcy in the server’s melancholy gloom.

“You’re building _another_ house. Isn’t this like… the fifth one?”

“I know! I know,” Karl shot back to Ant. “But I kinda need one right now, and I’ve got big plans. I’d like to live somewhere other than Punz’s basement because _someone burned my_ —”

“Hey! It was an accident!” Sapnap raised both hands in surrender, leaning back in the seat across Karl and Ant’s couch. 

“And it was started for a good reason,” Punz added. He was seated on a cardboard box flipped over, next to Sapnap. “Things just got a little out of hand…”

There was a brief flicker of awkward silence, no one daring to look anywhere close to the face of their peers or the door. Karl quickly revived them. 

“It’s gonna be awesome. I want it to feel a lot like my old house, but _so_ much better. It’ll have a balcony, and a roof terrace… it’s gonna be in the woods. It’s gonna have one of those windows that makes a little room— what’s that called?”

“Bay window?”

“Yeah! That. I also want to get like… a dog or something…”

Punz scoffed. “Not a good idea. Someone might kill it.” He subtly shared a glance with Sapnap, and Sap laughed.

“Are we _still_ talking about that? Yeah, pets aren’t a good idea on this server. Just ask Ant to be your roommate, he’s a lot easier to feed.”

Antfrost, mid-sip on his water bottle, choked loudly and sent Sapnap an incredulous look. 

“Wait, wait,” George interrupted suddenly, earning all of their attention. “Did you say you were building in the forest?”

Karl nodded, only mildly hesitant. “I thought it was the best place! You can’t really build around here… and it’d be really cool to live in like a cabin or something, hear me?”

George swallowed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to build there. You know what’s in the forest, we should stay in the central server.”

There was a beat of silence, and Sap chuckled. “That’s ridiculous. This has lasted a month now, just let Karl build his dumb house where he wants.”

“Yeah, c’mon, _Gogy_.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal.”

George stood up straight, his muscles tensed. “It is a big deal! We can’t expand right now, that’s not the point. At this moment, we go into the woods to patrol, to _exterminate_.”

“What are you talking about?” Ant asked quietly.

He clenched his teeth. “Quit the jokes!” George bit back. “We need to get working at some point.”

“Work?”

Punz and Sapnap tensed. “Yeah, what the heck?”

“Dream told us what he wanted. We know what we’ve gotta—”

Sap stood up. “No, _Dream_ told _you_ what he wanted.”

“How are we supposed to know if you’re telling the truth here?” Punz agreed, resting— but not activating— his hand on the crossbow next to him in a threatening manner, his blue eyes narrowed coldly. “The rest of us haven’t seen him in weeks. He could be—”

“ _Shut up_.” George growled. “Dream wants us to find the fugitives, _especially_ Wilbur. That British e-boy needs to pay for his crimes…”

“Tch. Who’s talking?”

“...as well as the rest of them. Are we gonna listen, or what?”

Punz and Sapnap went quiet, before they begrudgingly retreated. Ant stayed silent and Karl drew back into his hoodie, pulling the hood up and drawing the strings.

“We… do need to do justice, I suppose,” Antfrost muttered softly. “If no one else will.”

George sighed, cooling off. He hadn’t meant to start an argument— the day had been going so well. “Thank you. Why don’t we… ask the people for information again, and just scout the woods?”

Slowly, each of the company nodded. Sapnap sat back in his chair, and Punz eased off. 

Conversation didn’t pick up like it used to, with the air of strain over their heads and the stiffness in their posture. In the end, the land outside was still scratched and scarred. No house was as lucky as Punz’s. 

. . .

The loud slamming of the heavy cottage door against their wooden walls instantly told Tubbo that Tommy had returned. 

The “Tubbo? I’m home!” after confirmed it.

He didn’t fight off the smile on his face as he got up from what he was doing and headed for the front of the homestead, his footsteps pounding off echoing spruce floors. Rounding the corner, through an entrance that led into a cozy, standard cottage entryway, was Tommy— hanging what looked to be an unused bow and quiver on the hooks by the door. 

“Hey, Tommy!”

Turning around, Tommy grinned as well, his adorned with silver-and-blue braces. “Hey man.”

At just first glance, it was easy to see that nothing much had come from hunting for the day. His taller friend wasn’t hauling any carcasses or holding any meat. 

Still, not wanting to feel disappointed before properly getting an answer, Tubbo asked, “So, did you get anything?”

Tommy didn’t answer, instead he silently held out his palm. In it was a skimpy pile of crimson sweet berries, and no more than twenty of the tiny round produce. Tubbo frowned, humming wistfully. 

“Those wolves, man. I’m telling you!” Tommy handed the whole pile of fruit to Tubbo and raised his hands emphatically. “They’re eating everything out here— the sheep, the rabbits, foxes— there’s nothing left! I’d kill ‘em, but they’d all be at our cottage at night and eat _us_ next.”

“Surely, there’s gotta be something out there,” Tubbo replied.

Tommy scoffed. “I thought so too! No wonder everyone on this server only eats potatoes, nothing’s left.”

“What happened to ours, then?” he asked, confused. “Can’t we just make a new garden?”

Tommy went quiet, before responding, “We ate them, Tubbo. And you can’t plant cooked potatoes, that’s not how it works.”

“Oh.”

Tubbo bit his lip. Their lack of food in the past few days had been concerning… but there was always food out there, they’d find it. Eventually. Hopefully.

It wasn’t like they could ask for help from anyone, either… he and Tommy were on their own.

Their cozy little cottage stood solitary in the middle of a taiga, the entire clearing surrounded by thick brush and tall spruce trees for, quite possibly, thousands and thousands of blocks. The house itself was built out of regular cobble, oak, and spruce, and held just one floor— except for a single loft above the porch where Tubbo slept. The area was quite pretty, and he had tenderly planted little flower beds and bushes under the windows. Tubbo had grown quite fond of the place.

He thought Tommy had, too, his buddy said so… but neither of them were truly satisfied. They’d built this home with their own two hands, hid themselves in the forest and settled together. They’d started addressing the place as their second holiday home.

But, both knew they wouldn’t be returning from “vacation” anytime soon. 

“We can go hunting together sometime soon, we’ll find something better to eat,” Tubbo promised. Tommy nodded, before his blonde friend passed him and disappeared into the house. 

Tubbo watched him leave for a bit, before he turned back to the door. Behind it was a forest, only trees, for miles— void of civilization, untouched, unclaimed, unseen land by any eyes other than his and Tommy’s. They’d built a life here… but still, it was lonely, without any of their old friends.

And this food issue… 

Was ridiculous, he thought. There should be plenty of food. There was no reason the wolves killed everything off, or were even able to eat any cows. But Tommy wasn’t lying to him, Tommy was just as hungry as he was.

Tubbo sighed. He’d never missed his old home more than he did now. He missed his friends, his country, his family. He missed Wil.

Briefly, every memory of life before now flashed across his eyes. 

_Caravans. Pranks. Cold nights spent by fireside, surrounded by friends._

The good ones, and the bad. 

_Persecution. Sedition. Betrayal, war._

_Murder._

He shut his eyes tight and placed a palm over the scarred half of his face— which had faded considerably, but was still there— reminded of why he had to leave in the first place. He and Tommy would never be able to go back, life would never return to what it used to be.

. . .

_Untouched, unclaimed, unseen land by any eyes other than his and Tommy’s._

Deep in the server’s thick woods, the woods that surrounded the Dream Faction, Manberg, and engulfed the now-abandoned commune of Pogtopia, a figure balanced skillfully on the branches of a tall tree, hidden by large bunches of spruce needles and the curtain of nightfall. 

The figure was watching Tommy and Tubbo’s holiday home with bored interest, as if they had been waiting for something new to happen there for a long, long time. 

Still, their eyes scanned the exterior and windows of the cottage, as each light slowly blew out for nighttime.

Realizing that there was nothing to be seen, the nameless figure dropped from the tree, and disappeared back into the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Free at last, I’m homeless though  
>  I finally live in peace  
> A nation was born inside the walls I always see  
> My friends have skirmishes but I’m just living life much quieter  
> I’ve been called a fool so much for being the humbler one_  
>  ~ _Tubbo’s Song_ , Precious Jewel Amor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this story can start!!
> 
> Honestly though, I had a lot of trouble with this one. Not only was it Christmas break, or was this chapter twice as long as the last, but two Mondays ago my device wouldn’t start, and we had to go to three different repair places before deciding to sign me in on my Dad’s old IPad. Fortunately, all of my outlines and rough drafts for the story were saved :’)
> 
> Anyway, hope everyone had a great Christmas! Or whatever you celebrate lol

Beyond the center of the Dream SMP, past the ring of burnt and broken tree trunks once victim to cataclysmic wildfires, was the thick, flush forest of the server. The trees were tall, dense, and packed closely together, their canopy filtering what rays of sunlight were present and leaving the floor in damp darkness, their leaves and needles dressed in every shade and color of green. 

GeorgeNotFound didn’t like it when people entered the forest, even if only for an errand. It was more of an anxiety than a mandate— but since he was made the server’s leading figure after Eret’s dethroning and Dream’s disappearance, citizens didn’t usually try to provoke him unless absolutely necessary.

Karl kicked a pebble into a pile of ferns with the toe of his boot, dragging his idle weapon behind him, haunted with the knowledge that he’d never really be allowed to settle in such a pretty place.

Punz was hiking in front of him, leading— or tolerating the man trailing behind him— as they trekked through the woods, patrolling the nearest inner circle of trees outside the SMP. It was just the two of them, walking alone in the forest’s smothering silence.

Karl supposed George’s concern was expected. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo were hidden beyond these woods somewhere— and, he assumed, Dream— and George didn’t want anyone to be anywhere close to them, unless they planned to find and bring the fugitives to him.

Karl swallowed, and gripped his axe more in front of him, like Punz. He continued to quietly follow his older friend through the undergrowth and berry bushes until the silence finally got to him.

“Punz,” Karl began, quickening his pace to catch up with him. His friend stopped and turned to stare expectantly with toneless, cornflower eyes. “...Eye spy?”

A beat of silence, then a dry chuckle. “No, definitely not.”

“C’mon, it’ll at _least_ pass the time faster! I know you don’t want to be here either, and it won’t be so quiet.”

Punz continued walking, and Karl struggled to walk beside him, but a near intentional trip from his blonde friend kept him behind. 

“The silence is much better than having a conversation with you, I guarantee it,” he replied, laughing when Karl nearly fell flat on his face.

“Fine, fine. I’ll shut up for you.”

Their search so far hadn’t been as fruitful as they had hoped, if only for the sake of returning with some kind of news for George. Nothing here was worth a second look… it was all trees, shrubs, some far and few red foxes and the ravenous, shoddy wolves that stalked them. Very, very rarely, Karl would spot and point out a wild brown bunny, but nothing that had any connection with runaways or Dream. 

The only interesting thing anywhere close to a clue was a pair of faded boot prints stamped in a puddle of now hard, dried mud. Neither Punz nor Karl recognized them as belonging to one specific person— it could have been anyone, at any time, really— but they were the same boots every time, and appeared and disappeared randomly, as if the person had hiked here regularly and often suddenly decided to climb the spruces and travel through their branches. 

Most of the prints were old. However, a mile away from one murky imprint of a boot’s heel, an arrow was lodged in the bark of a tree trunk. The arrow was new, and the shot was fresh.

So, someone had been there recently. 

It made Karl shiver to think about someone hiking and hunting here that he didn’t know about. Maybe they lived here. Maybe they were watching him. 

But, still, nothing was found that was considered actual, solid proof. No freshly-made cobblestone towers, or stray scaffolding blocks. No sign that anyone genuinely inhabited the woods… at least in this inner circle. The patrol remained fruitless, and it seemed it would never end.

He sighed loudly. “Still nothing. Just trees. Forever.”

Punz hummed in some sort of agreement. “That’s all this is, isn’t it? There’s nothing here but unidentifiable, untraceable footprints and more trees.”

“Maybe we’ll get stuck in a loop,” Karl muttered. “Just walking for eternity, past the same spruces, trapped in these woods forever.”

“This may be my opinion, but I think we’re just going in circles.”

_**~ ~ ~** _

_It was a glorious day._

_L’Manberg had won its independence. Its citizens had fought hard, sacrificed_ everything _they had and loved for their country, and they earned it. L’Manberg was finally free from Dream’s rule, and from the SMP name. All thanks to..._

_“My right-hand man, TommyInnit! You have the Declaration of Independance, yeah?”_

_Tommy, especially, loved his country with more than just his being— nearly as much as Wilbur. He was the cause of its independence. He was the one who gave up_ both _of his prized music discs— his favorite possessions, and quite possibly the most valuable and powerful items on the server— to free them. To win them liberty, once and for all._

_“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”_

_All was said with a smile. “I need a new book!” Wilbur declared, sprinting from the bottom of the hill to the Camarvan to meet Tommy. His hands were empty. “We’ve lost so much, I have nothing…” He chuckled good-naturedly, and turned to the man behind him. “Get me a book, Fundy.”_

_The fox nodded and gave a little salute, before running off to the little spots in L’Manberg that were still intact to search for chests._

_Wil patted Tommy’s back and ruffled his blonde hair with a proud smile. The teen swatted him away but grinned right back. There was a tiny, tiny glint of something negative in his bright blue eyes… but it was quickly swallowed up by the overwhelming excitement of victory._

_Tubbo stood at the opposite side of the Camarvan, staring out at L’Manberg’s blackstone walls and the scarred land in between, examining the damage from battle. A crater from Dream’s TNT, twice the size of the van, split the nation, allowing the lake to rush in and fill the whole thing up. The van’s bumper and wheels were crushed, the windows smashed in and clay-gray sides bent and dented, but it was still in one piece._

_The younger teen felt Wilbur place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we can rebuild. We’ll build it better! We’ll terraform, we’ll fix what was destroyed.”_

_“We can expand, as well!” Tommy piped in._

_His elder opened his mouth and closed it, hesitating. The server admin himself was approaching them— leaving his battalion and_ Eret _behind at L’Manberg’s entrance— in glinting purple netherite worn over bright lime clothing. The nation’s former opposition held an enchanted axe, neutrally, but his posture was rigid and his expression unreadable under a cracked porcelain mask._

_“Is that part of the agreement?” Wilbur asked. “Dream, are we allowed to expand?”_

_Dream’s mouth was drawn in a tight line, before his enemy forced a smile. “Well, part of the SMP rules say that anyone can expand anywhere. So, as long as you stay out of my faction, technically…”_

_Wil grinned, and Tommy pumped a fist into the air. Behind Dream, his colleagues, George and Punz, were hauling a heavy double chest that was placed in front of the L’Manbergians._

_“What’s this?” Wil asked, raising an eyebrow._

_Dream smiled, before opening the chest. Inside was a pile of broken netherite armor, cheap diamond tools, shields, blocks, some potions. All familiar items._

_“Your stuff from earlier,” the admin explained. “During Eret’s betrayal.” Wilbur’s eyes widened in shock. “See, we’re not savages.”_

_The supply was indeed theirs, from the time just yesterday morning when fellow comrade Eret led his friends to a dark room deep underground. It was a trap, of course— they were ambushed and betrayed, and lost a majority of valuable belongings to Dream before the real climax began._

_Wil laughed. “Dream, we may have had our differences, but I think we can learn to live side-by-side in this.”_

_His attention was turned back to the entrance, however, where the admin was regrouping with his army… and Eret, now king of the Dream Faction, stood in a cape and crown, instead of his old L’Manberg uniform. Eret stared back at him with emotionless white eyes shielded by dark shades._

_“_ Eret _, however. I want nothing to do with him. Give me the book, Tommy.”_

 _A chuckle ran through everyone, and Tommy scoffed, handing his elder the original_ L’Manberg Declaration of Independance _from the very start of the war. “Yeah,_ Eret _signed it, the pinnacle of scumbags!”_

_Wilbur sighed and shook his head, gently placing the piece of history in his empty ender chest. Tubbo heard Eret yell something snappy at them from his place at the edge of the wall, beside Dream._

_“You trying to erase history?”_

_He was ignored, but the statement hit Tubbo in a place that hurt. Eret used to be his teammate, a friend, yet he turned down his family and nation for what— a bigger throne?_

_Fundy, the general’s son, handed him a freshly-crafted leather bound book, with a handful of clean pages yet to be written on. Wilbur grasped it firmly._

_“You gotta declare freedom, Wilbur!” Tommy told him._

_“_ Oh _, I’ve done this before.” Wil grinned and stretched in a mocking fashion. “This’ll be easy. Right.”_

_“Gentlemen, on top of the van.”_

_Tommy ushered Tubbo and Fundy on the roof of the Camarvan, and Wilbur came after it. The former general looked over his country of four citizens, and each of their faces. Each was bright with hope, happiness. They got their happy ending, even if it came at a cost._

_Wilbur looked more than proud. His brown eyes squinted happily under round glasses, and he swept his equally brown hair to the side as he stared at the book’s clean pages with a pensive look._

_Fundy, who was always the somber one, hadn’t laughed in so long. His ears were perked, as well, and his eyes were brighter than anyone had seen them in a long, long time._

_Tommy looked more tired than ever, maybe a little sad. Bags laced the skin under his eyes, but he grinned like he always did, like he_ hadn’t _just lost his prized possessions, because he now lived in a free country._

_And Tubbo was exhausted, as well. His coat was torn, and his right epaulette was missing. Still he smiled kindly up at his general, true relief and gratitude unmistakable in his expression._

_Each one of them waited expectantly for a new declaration, dressed in their signature L’Manberg uniforms— blue wool coats with a collar and cuffs, black hats that turned up on the side, a cotton shirt, vest, rather uncomfortable breeches, and leather boots. Their skin was bandaged and bruised and their hair matted from sweat, their land was nearly decimated, but they were here._

_“The…_ Decree of Independance _, signed,” Wilbur read aloud, before scratching in his name at the bottom of the first page. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, gentlemen.”_

_He looked over the land of L’Manberg, at the walls, the trees, the water. Dream, Sapnap, George, and Punz watched history unfold from below._

_“As we gaze… upon the_ swaths _of redwood trees. The great hills to our south, and the walls that have protected us for years. I, as the now President of L’Manberg—” he cleared his throat and added softly, “ah, we’re not democratic, I’ve elected myself— hereby state:”_

_Wilbur paused, then took a deep breath._

_“_ YOOOOOOOOOOOO _! SUCK IT GREEN BOYYY!”_

_The entire area erupted in laughter. Tommy had cracked up so hard, he was bent over with his head in his hands, trembling, and Tubbo and Fundy had quit breathing all together._

_Wilbur had to compose himself, before he finished calmly, “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Freedom. Now— men, I want you each to sign this.”_

_“That was noble, that was very noble,” Tommy muttered jokingly, taking the book from the President and signing his name under Wilbur’s._

_“My right-hand man, Treasury of State, TommyInnit.” Wil grinned._

_Tommy handed it to Tubbo next. “Tubbo,” Wilbur began. “Tubbo, I want you to be my Secretary of State.”_

_Tubbo gasped. “Thank you! What does that mean?”_

_The_ Decree of Independance _was signed. Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy. The two youngest cheered and threw arms around each other. Wilbur turned to Fundy, and shook his head happily._

_“My son. My son! We have independence!”_

_**~ ~ ~** _

Just outside Manberg, on the border of the Dream Faction, there was a billboard— nestled in a grassy clearing, surrounded with dead trees. Everyone on the server used the thing, it was essential. On it were announcements and advertisements and little yellow sticky notes with vague coordinates scratched on them hastily. A card for Nihachu’s bakery had been tacked on there from a while ago— and even though her establishment had been demoted to a little market stand, it still brought in business. 

Today, Antfrost, George, and Sapnap arrived at the billboard in their daunting netherite, with a handful of papers. The area around the billboard was buzzing with people, especially around that time of day— it was the only real “town” crafted after the destruction of the place, or a bit of a makeshift marketplace with stalls and stands and shoddy tables. 

Sapnap immediately stamped up to the billboard and nailed four posters near the top. Each one had a portrait and a bold word underneath it in red lettering. 

Quackity pursed his lip, overcome with a brief feeling of déjà vu. 

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Niki inquired from behind him. Eret nodded slowly and Purpled groaned.

The four Manbergians were enjoying what they could of the afternoon, sat at a wooden table under the shade of a tent’s red canopy, conversing over a single plate of bread— that was taken, mostly, by the two teenagers. Quackity had his gray beanie on, as usual, covering every bit of his head except the few tufts of dark hair on his forehead, and Purpled tended to bury himself in his puffer before reaching out to snag food from the plate. 

Niki sat farther back in her chair, round, golden glasses set on her nose and keeping the blonde hair out of her face. Eret was slightly reserved, as well, his seat closer to Niki’s than anyone else’s, his hands folded in his lap. Typically, he had his simple coin-gray tee on, the one with the fitted sleeves. 

Quackity got up from their table to check the billboard, passing Sam and Ponk muttering about the same thing. George, Sapnap and Ant had claimed their own bench and were chatting in low voices. Skeppy was at the board, examining the posters with a grim expression, and Quackity joined him.

The four posters each had the face of a different server member in a little box surrounded with writing, no one of which anyone here had seen in, at least, a month. The first one was new, and had a picture of server admin Dream on it, wearing his signature mask, smiling easily. Underneath it, read: _MISSING. Reward for any information regarding disappearance or location._

_TOMMYINNIT: WANTED for suspected aid in the destruction of Manberg. Reward for any information regarding location._

_TUBBO_: WANTED for treason and suspected aid in the destruction of Manberg. Reward for any information regarding location._

_WILBURSOOT: WANTED for arson, mass destruction, and murder. Reward for any information regarding location_.

Quackity barely read to the end of it before he was back at his table. “We’ve seen this before,” he murmured forlornly, sitting down. “They’ve offered half a stack now, by the block.”

“But it hasn’t happened in a _whole_ week,” Niki replied, discernment and emotion present in her hushed whispers. “Why are they suddenly deciding to do it again? What’s the good?”

Eret hummed, his shielded gaze pointed at the table’s wood grain. “Nothing’s changed. They’re getting desperate, so they’re raising the stakes.”

Purpled rolled his eyes. “Tch, not by enough. I still don’t wanna leave my tent.”

“They’re desperate alright,” Quackity chuckled, turning to look at the group of server operators. “Look at Sapnap, I can see smoke comin’ out his ears.”

Purpled barked a laugh, leaning back in his seat and running a hand through his fine blonde hair. “Just _now_? It happens regularly, I’ve memorized the cycle. Sometimes it comes out his nose. Sometimes, his—”

Eret cleared his throat loudly, cutting him short before the mentioned operator overheard. Skeppy had approached George’s group and said something to Sapnap, who nodded in response, as if he was confirming a question. 

Quackity bet the man had asked if it was real.

“Do you think they’re ever going to find anything?” Niki asked quietly, turning to Eret.

Eret bit his lip, then shook his head. “Nah, I don’t wanna think about it. Who knows what they’ll do with them, now Dream’s not around to handle everything. Or Schlatt…”

Quackity scoffed. “Not like Dream did much before, anyw—”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to worry, though,” Eret assured Nihachu. “It’s been this long. It’s likely they’re not gonna find anything new, especially at this rate.”

Purpled nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of the jacket that matched his eyes and name in color. “I don’t think anyone’ll take this new offer, either, even Sam.”

Niki smiled at the reassurance, pausing briefly to swipe at her eyes. Quackity looked down at his feet and Purpled continued to fidget with his puffer. No one questioned it, her empathy for the traitors.

In some way or another, everyone shared it.

_**~ ~ ~** _

_“Well. That was pretty easy.”_

_Tubbo’s hands were shaking. He sat in the front row in the audience, his hands resting, quaking, on his knees— he could barely keep his focus on the podium far in front of him. The new elected president of L’Manberg stood at the front, his two vices at his sides on separate microphones._

_Wilbur… Wilbur hadn’t won. He and Tommy didn’t win the election. Instead,_ JSchlatt _had taken his place, with Quackity and George behind him._

_What did that mean?_

_“And do you know what I said, the day I got banned from the Dream SMP, and the day I said I was running? I said things were gonna change.”_

_Schlatt’s grin was wide, his powerful voice booming over the podium speakers. Tubbo was pretty sure it could be heard across the nation’s land, maybe farther. It was terrifying, it sounded_ villainous _._

_Surely, Schlatt wasn’t that bad of a guy. Tubbo used to know him. The man had the horns and ears and eyes of a goat, scruffy brown mutton chops instead of a beard, and a pitch-black suit and tie. He held his stature and hands like a true politician._

_The air in the audience was tense. L’Manberg citizens looked nervous, more than concerned— especially since someone other than their very own Wil would be in power. Men outside of the nation watched cautiously, quietly, taking in the behavior of this new political power._

_Eret sat next to Tubbo. The Secretary of State eyed the king, and though he couldn’t see Eret’s expression under his glasses, it was clear he was worried. He used to be a citizen too, once, even if Tubbo was the only one sensitive to that._

_“I looked every citizen of L’Manberg in the eyes, and I said, ‘You listen to me. Things are gonna be a_ lot different _tomorrow.’”_

_Tubbo could hear Tommy questioning Wilbur behind him— they sat at the very back of the seats. Turning around quickly, he saw that Wilbur was sitting up straight, and answering his vice’s doubts calmly and sensibly._

_The audience sucked in a breath._

_“Let’s start making it happen.” Schlatt proposed._

_“Huh?”_

_“Um… what do you…”_

_The audience whispered amongst themselves, taking brief opportunity to voice their concern. What did Schlatt and Swag2020 want?_

_“My first decree,” he began, jumping straight into things, “as President of L’Manberg, the_ Emperor _of this_ great country _— is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit.”_

_Schlatt’s voice was raised, higher than it was before. The audience went wild, either jumping from their seats to protest, or narrow their scopes on the two new enemies of the nation._

_Many were confused. Niki had screamed. Punz and Ponk had their crossbows aimed between Wilbur and Tommy’s eyes, who were quickly backing away from the audience and Schlatt._

_“_ Get them outta here _. They’re no longer welcome.”_

 _Wilbur snatched Tommy by his coat collar and forcefully shoved the kid behind him. “Tommy, Tommy— run. Tommy,_ run _.”_

 _“Okay, we gotta go,” Tommy hurriedly replied, nodding. “_ We gotta go _.”_

_The two booked it, headed towards the safety within L’Manberg’s walls— where they knew Tubbo had hidden a bunker underground, in the case this exact scenario occurred. A few citizens followed suit, weapons drawn. Many stayed behind, including Fundy, who watched Wilbur run with a horrified expression._

_Tubbo trailed behind Punz after a moment, included in the chase. They didn’t go far. Just before entering into the blackstone sanctuary, he saw Tommy and Wil chug a bottle of silver liquid. The light around them bended, and they vanished from sight._

_“They’re invisible!”_

_Instantly, Tubbo grabbed his own invisibility potion and forced it down, following behind his friends._

_But he hesitated._

_“Where’d they go?”_

_Schlatt’s laugh echoed into L’Manberg walls, just as Tubbo thought. The hunters paused, looking around the area for Tommy and Wil, but saw no one. Tubbo stopped at the shore of the lake by the busted Camarvan, silently watching his friends slip into the entrance of his bunker, unseen._

_He turned around, glancing up at the tall redwood trees that pierced the clouds. The red, white, blue, black, and yellow flag that still waved to this day. The gently rolling hill and clear blue ponds and rivers._

_Schlatt hadn’t mentioned him. He didn’t have to follow Wilbur this time, running and hiding. Tubbo could stay in L’Manberg._

_He turned, stepping closer to the dispirited group of hunters, their fury from earlier subdued. Ponk and Punz’s bows were on the ground. Eret’s grip on his sword was shaking. They began to shuffle outside of the walls, giving up on the chase in favor of seeing the rest of Schlatt’s speech._

_“Oh, it was so easy,” he jeered, continuing his comical, wicked laugh. “Until further notice, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are merely a memory. A relic of the past.”_

_Tubbo latched his invisible hand on the ladder to the top of L’Manberg’s walls. Following Punz once again, he climbed up and scaled the sides until he had a clear view of the podium._

_Schlatt’s arms were spread as he shouted into the microphone. Quackity, his first vice, was behind him, cheering him on vivaciously. George was a little ways off, the second vice, a tad calmer than the rest. Down below, the audience watched with mixed expressions and tightened fists._

_“A reminder of the_ darkest era _this nation has ever seen, and I guarantee you all, dear citizens, tonight that changes. We are entering into a new period of L’Manberg, a period of prosperity, of strength, of unity.”_

_Tubbo’s hand clenched around the barrier on the wall, watching the speech with held breath. Punz was a few feet away from him, arms crossed. His emotions were nearly always unreadable, like staring at a stone wall— but Tubbo swore he spotted a flash of worry in the man’s eyes._

_Turning back to his hands, the light hiding them was flickering, and he felt the effects of his potion slowly wearing off. Then his attention was drawn suddenly to the podium._

_“Tubbo! Where’s Tubbo?”_

_For a solid five seconds, he forgot to breathe. Then, swallowing his fear, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, startling Punz, “I’m right here!”_

_Schlatt never glanced towards the wall. Instead, he leaned closer into the mic. “Tubbo, get up here.” Instead of being threatening, the President sounded calmer, welcoming. “Get up here, on my podium. You’re the Secretary of State.”_

_“Oh. Uh— okay. Am I?”_

_Schlatt chuckled. “Well, I’m not gonna fire_ you _. You’re Tubbo! What am I, gonna fire Tubbo?”_

_Tubbo found himself lingering at the top of the wall. Did he really wanna get on that podium? What did the President want from him?_

_“Tubbo. Get up here,_ now _.”_

_The teen jumped out of his skin and scurried to the ladder. “Okay, I’m on my way, I’m on my way,” he rambled, voice raised so someone could hear. “I’m on my way.”_

_He heard Quackity scoff, his own voice echoing across the audience. “I don’t think he wants the job, man…”_

_“I do want the job! I’m on my way.”_

_The last of his invisibility had faded when he touched the bottom of the walls, and ran back to the seats for the election. Tubbo just barely caught Nihachu’s gaze as he passed her, and remembered her shaking head and moving lips—_ don’t do it _, she mouthed._

_“Ah, Tubbo. So good to see you.” Schlatt smiled. It nearly looked genuine._

_Tubbo climbed to the podium anyway, hiking up the hill before stepping on the hand-carved spruce wood floorboards. He remembered building part of this podium. And, he had to admit— standing up here felt powerful. He could see all of the audience, inside the tall walls of L’Manberg, and even to the ocean and Dream Faction beyond. Each and every hill was in his sight, the grass, the trees, the buildings, the people. The sun was low in the sky._

_Schlatt turned to him and smiled again, before stepping away from his mic, an arm extended towards its place. “Take my spot on the podium, Tubbo. I love this guy,” he told Quackity, shaking his head and chuckling. The teen slowly, hesitantly, stepped up to the stand. “Tubbo, as my Secretary of State, my right-hand man!”_

_He nodded quickly, trying his best to seem agreeable to the new… dictator?_

_Was Schlatt going to be a dictator?_

_“Okay, okay…”_

_“I need you to do something for me, Tubbo.”_

_Tubbo gulped. “...Yeah?”_

_Schlatt’s entire face went dark. His goat-eyed gaze was stone cold, in just a matter of seconds. He smirked. “I need you to find Tommy. And I need you… to_ show him the door _.”_

_Tubbo blanched, unaware of his death grip on the mic stand._

_So, he was the President’s new right-hand man._

_And Tommy— his best friend, his comrade, his brother— was a fugitive._

_**~ ~ ~** _

Tubbo looked up from his book as Tommy opened the door, entering the cottage with an empty bucket dangling from his loose fingers. His friend was unusually quiet as he tossed the bucket on the nearest shelf, and still didn’t say a thing after Tubbo greeted him. He looked like he was thinking— and whatever it was, it wasn’t a thought that made Tommy happy. 

“What’s up?” Tubbo asked, breaking the fog in his friend’s eyes. 

Tommy grunted, walking over and plopping down in the chair next to Tubbo. The warm glow of their lamp illuminated his worried expression, tired eyes. 

“Henry’s a little down in the dumps, that’s all.”

Tubbo cocked his head. “What does that mean?”

After a minute, Tommy sighed. “I dunno, he’s not eating,” he admitted. “He looks depressed. I think he might be sick.”

“Maybe he’s just got the stomach bug? It might disappear in a bit.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air. “I have no idea! He hasn’t eaten a thing since yesterday— I forgot to tell you that.”

Tubbo hummed, setting his book down. “Well, best to give the cow time then. I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

“No, yeah. I’ve just had him for a long time, Tubbo. I’m worried.” He happened to glance at the hooks on the wall by the door, and scowled. “And now my crossbow’s gone missing, I’m just on edge.”

At Tommy’s look, Tubbo put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled. “He’ll be fine, Tommy. He’s been through this much.”

Tommy’s smile was watery, but at least he tried. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

_**~ ~ ~** _

_Tubbo was pretty sure he was in shock._

_His brief search in the vague direction of Wilbur and Tommy’s whereabouts— which he had only done to satisfy Schlatt— had been fruitless. They were gone. The two had to be in the woods somewhere, but the young Secretary of State couldn’t have searched the whole forest in one night, especially if he didn’t want to._

_Of course, he circled right back to his homeland._

_But his nation didn’t feel the same. It didn’t seem so much like home anymore, like safety. Tubbo felt sick._

_“Thank you, Niki.”_

_Tubbo scarfed down the baked potatoes she had given him on his return. It was morning, now, and he’d gone straight to her bakery. The bakery was warm, and smelled of freshly-made bread, compared to the wet and cold trip he’d taken through boat on the ocean at one point. He was exhausted, running on a sleepless night, and starved._

_He didn’t know what L’Manberg would do without a citizen like Niki— generous and sweet, yet passionate and patriotic. And sure, most days she was kinder than anything, but the woman had a quick temper._

_“How was the search?” she asked, only slightly cold._

_Today, after the election, she was bitter. Emotional._ Angry _._

 _Tubbo held the fork in front of his face, waiting to swallow before he spoke. “They’re gone, I’m sure they’re gone.” He sighed. “I_ hope _they’re gone.”_

 __Man _, he thought._ It’s really gone pear-shaped _._

_Niki stabbed the fork through her own plate of food, eyebrows drawn and expression grim. It was clear she never liked Schlatt— of course she didn’t, she’d always liked Wilbur— even before what he did today. If Tubbo had to be honest, he was scared of what she would do. When she would snap._

_Tubbo shook his head. “I still can’t believe it! I thought I was meant to go with them, but… now I definitely can’t.”_

_Niki sighed. “...This can’t be true.”_

_“It is.”_

_“We have to do something!” she snapped, slamming her fist on the table._

_“S’not possible. Now there’s a new administration.”_

_She narrowed her eyes with a terrifying glint. “I don’t care. I will_ not _be satisfied with this.”_

_The conversation went dead silent._

_Until Quackity’s voice was heard on the speakers._

_“Please return to the podium for the second presidential speech.”_

_Tubbo and Niki sat next to each other for the speech. Only a few of the others were there, shuffling to their seats— Eret, Punz, Fundy._

_Schlatt was at his microphone in an instant, the same corrupt grin on his face._

_“People of L’Manberg! The sun rises on another beautiful day, in our country. The sun rises on another chapter of our greatest history, the next page of the textbook.” He paused, before continuing excitedly, “I reckon our nation needs to expand! I reckon we’ve done our nation a great disservice. I reckon… we_ take down the walls _.”_

_Niki stood up. “No!”_

_“What?_ What _?”_

_“I don’t…” Tubbo spoke up, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Schlatt.”_

_Eret shook his head. “You can’t do that.”_

_“I want them down immediately!”_

_“Schlatt…”_

_“You have_ no right _to do that!” Niki screamed._

 _Schlatt stood up straighter and raised his voice. Quackity and George eyed the audience from behind him, letting them know to_ be quiet _. “All citizens are_ required _to help take down the walls of this country. And, you know what else I’m feeling? Enough of this— living in the past. I say, fellas… I say we rename this country.”_

_The audience went frantic, voice over voice over voice. All citizens, old and new, protested sharply. Even Eret argued against it. The President ignored them._

_“No longer will this country be called ‘_ L’Manberg _’,” he mocked. “Our great nation is now…_ Manberg _.”_

_The men on the podium cheered. Niki’s face went dark._

_“You are going to pay for this,” she muttered._

_“Thus ends the second presidential speech. Let’s get to work.”_

_Slowly, every citizen got up from their seats and walked over to the walls. They were a piece of history, a memorial. They protected L’Manberg. They enclosed it._

_The two vices pulled out their pickaxes first, and began to hack at the bricks. Punz came next, then Fundy. Niki and Eret stayed behind, waiting until Schlatt would eventually force them to work._

_Tubbo stood awkwardly in front of the walls with the pick in his quivering hands. Looking up, it seemed as if they brushed the clouds. Looking at them from where he was now, the stone seemed impenetrable, infinite._

_“Yeah, attaboy, George!” Schlatt praised the workers to his left. “What is that,_ Efficiency V _? Hey, Tubbo! Tubbo, tear down the walls, son.”_

_Schlatt clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder. Tubbo resisted flinching away._

_He gripped the pick tighter. “Schlatt, I really don’t—”_

_“_ Now _,” the President snapped. “If you’re not gonna find Wilbur Soot or Tommy, at least make yourself_ helpful _. This wall comes down.”_

_Tubbo hesitated, before turning back to the bricks. Schlatt stepped away, waiting patiently._

_He could hear Niki and Eret begging him not to do it. A few feet away, George and Punz and Fundy were tearing holes into the wall that Wil would’ve made them fix overnight, had he still been in charge._

_Tubbo pulled back his pickaxe, preparing for a heavy blow._

_It cracked solidly into the wall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a pain to edit


End file.
